“You were going up to the cabin to repair the fireplace and build some lawn furniture. You were going to stay over night and come back the evening of the second day. When you didn’t come back, Nolan took me up to look for you. Your car was there, but you were gone.”

“No clues?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. We thought you might have wandered off into the woods and injured yourself; but I couldn’t accept that. You were always a good woodsman, even in desolate country like that.”

“Secluded, huh?” He asked.

“Some of the worst country in the state. We bought the place so we could get away from the mess in the city.”

He smiled at her. Apparently they had gotten away from one mess merely to fall victim to another.

She sliced him a huge piece of pie and set it before him, the same brave smile still fixed upon her lips. Then she fixed the coffee for him, black with a lump of sugar. He forked some of the pie into his mouth and felt a little sick, along with the headache. A stranger feeding him and loving him, and who knew more about him than he did. He bolted the pie and gulped the coffee hurriedly. When he had finished, he glanced at the electric clock above the pink refrigerator. 9:15.

“Tired, dear?” She asked.

He nodded dully. Now, he thought, I suppose I’m to crawl into bed with her! He felt trapped, [p37]  suddenly panic stricken at the thought; but she was his wife. He’d married her. He’d probably slept with her thirteen months before. Why the horror?

[p37]  

[p

]  

“We’ll go to bed now,” she decided. “I usually turn in early. Have to work, you know.”

“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” Nick mumbled.

She blinked at him. “You’ll do no such thing. You’ll march right upstairs to bed, Nick Danson.”

And the die, he figured, was cast...

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